


Amid A Lightless Place

by Akumeoi



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack Treated Seriously, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Fix-It, Gen, Metafiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-14 12:04:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akumeoi/pseuds/Akumeoi
Summary: There, beside the throne. On the left, where grey, broken chunks of stone rested in their own dust in the still gloom, having been undisturbed by any hand in ten full years of darkness. Except for Noctis’s, about half an hour ago, when he had leapt from the window and warped to the street below, chasing after Ardyn. But that didn't explain why Noctis could see a thin seam of light shining from amidst the rubble, so white and sharp like a razor wire."I didn't realise how close I was to death," Noctis thought calmly.----In the final moments before Noctis meets his Fated end, things start to go drastically wrong. It will take all four Chocobros to put fate back together and make the sun rise again on Eos.





	Amid A Lightless Place

**_As the universe starts to rip apart, will you keep holding me in your mind?_ **

Noctis entered the throne room with steps heavy and slow, measured, weighted, and weighed. To an outsider he might appear regal, resolute, proud. _Walk tall_. And Noctis was determined to walk straight up to the throne and sit down in it and die, to do it for his people, his country, and his friends – even though his heart, silent as it had become, was aching in his chest. 

Through the hole in the wall, a dim shaft of light fell, too weak to illuminate more than a small grey pool. The sounds of Noctis’s footsteps were the only sounds inside the silent room, which was filled with a visceral hush of waiting. Noctis fixed the throne in the centre of his vision, forcing himself to put everything else out of his mind, determined not to crack.

Something flickered in the corner of his vision, and Noctis gritted his teeth. His footsteps slowed, but he knew that nothing living should be in this room besides himself. There was no wind to make the torn remnants of ancient banners flap, and no moon for a cloud to pass over and block out that dim shaft of light. Uneasiness pricked at Noctis’s spine. 

He couldn’t help himself. He stopped walking.

There, beside the throne. On the left, where grey, broken chunks of stone rested in their own dust in the still gloom, having been undisturbed by any hand in ten full years of darkness. Except for Noctis’s, about half an hour ago, when he leapt from the window and warped to the street below, chasing after Ardyn. But that wasn't enough to explain why Noctis could see a thin seam of light shining from amidst the rubble, so white and sharp like a razor wire. 

_I didn't realise how close I was to death_ , Noctis thought calmly, taking the light as a harbinger of one of the ancient kings. Yet for a moment, it felt as if his feet were glued to the floor - not that he could not move, but that the room itself was frozen, and he no more than a wooden model in a scene. All the universe was gathered towards it, heavy and still.

Noctis took a step, and the world tilted slightly. It felt like the ground had lifted up underneath his feet, then dropped an inch or so back down again. Then, as Noctis blinked around himself in confusion, he gradually became aware of something else - a soft, sibilant sound whispering all around him. Like voices starting to speak on top of each other, one at a time - _one hundred and thirteen voices?_ Noctis wondered - but softly, so softly, that no words could be made out or meaning derived. It wasn't sinister or soothing, scary or reassuring. But it sent chills down Noctis's spine all the same. 

Because soon, he would be joining those voices. Maybe his voice, too, would linger in this place, and haunt Insomnia for years to come. Noctis gritted his teeth.

Beside the throne, he noticed, close on the right-hand side, another thin line of light had appeared. It appeared to cross the path Noctis would have to take from the stairs to the throne. It had crossed his mind that this could be some artifice of Ardyn’s, one last trick to keep him away from the throne, but there were no remnants of that stale, bitter presence here. So whatever that light was, Noctis could only pray it would let him pass. 

Noctis forced himself to step forward again and again, creeping at a snail's pace because every step was agony. The room was swaying in front of his eyes like a mirage, thin fissures of light spreading like lace from either side of the throne and beginning to appear on the walls beside him. The whispering chorus grew ever louder, urging Noctis onward even as his whole body rebelled. 

Standing directly before the dais on which the throne rested, Noctis could take it no longer. By now the feeling of wrongness was too strong to ignore. What was going wrong? What fresh new hell was this? It was already hard enough to die, though he loved the kingdom of Lucis, but now he felt like he was losing his mind.

From the depths of Noctis’s tired heart arose a silent cry: _This is all wrong_. For a moment, he closed his eyes, fists clenched at his side, chest heaving from the exertion of pushing through to the throne. When he opened his eyes again, preparing to take those final steps up the stairs to the ancient seat of kings, he saw - or thought he saw - a hazy figure dressed in white, wavering in and out of view. Around him, the shadows were flickering, but Noctis didn't even notice.

Heaving a sigh of relief, he smiled tiredly and rubbed the back of one hand against his forehead.

“Luna?” he said softly.

The wavering figure stilled, blinking in and out of focus. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. A ghost, then. 

“I'll be with you soon,” Noctis said, making to turn and climb up the stairs.

Then the room imploded as the crack of light in the rubble split like a maw, ripping a hole in the fabric of Lucis with the audible squeal of tearing metal. A black so profound it seemed to bend light appeared, rimmed with light from the crack, as the other cracks split open in a ripple effect with terrible shrieks. Crying out in pain, Noctis instinctively threw himself to the floor, curling into a protective ball in the curve of the stairs. Ghastly, white, tortured forms issued from the black voids in the air, then withered away in an instant. And then suddenly it was over, leaving Noctis feeling wrecked, cold, and afraid.

The only sound in the room was the sound of the voids breathing, sucking in light and rattling the windows with the chill of a cold north wind. The world seemed to dwindle down to the size of the throne room itself. Daring to stand, Noctis took in the fractured world around him, feeling like he was moving through custard. There were two thrones behind him, one whole and bright, one grey and coated in ashes, the one he had been trying to reach just moments before. The dark voids were so deep that if Noctis stared at them for too long, he started seeing his own memories flickering in sepia from within their depths. 

Something was terribly, horribly wrong, and Noctis was afraid it was too late to go back. Any movement could make the universe split apart again. Or maybe this was all inside of his head? Unable to help himself, Noctis bit back a sob.

“Is anybody out there?” he called, knowing no one would come. His own harsh breathing grew loud in his ears, stubbornly out of time with the measured inhalations from the creeping void.

 _Luna_. Was she still beside the throne? Noctis looked, and saw, to his horror, that the void to the right of the throne had extended a crack of light directly across the seat, which he was still seeing in doubles. Noctis knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that if he took more than three steps, it would swallow the throne whole, no matter how many thrones he could see.

“Luna?” he said aloud. _Guys? Dad? Anyone?_ Noctis hadn't wanted his friends to see him die, had wanted to walk out of their lives with dignity, a man instead of a corpse. But now, he would have give absolutely anything for any one of them to be at his side. Alone at the end, no gods, no kings. 

_This definitely has something to do with Ardyn - or at least someone like him._

It was that thought that brought Noctis back from the brink of despair. He would do anything to defeat Ardyn, the tyrant who had taken everything from him. Glancing down at the ring, white jewel glowing steadily on his finger, Noctis drew his sword. Though the world was spinning around him, and the void tried to immobilise him with its frosted breath, he drew back his arm and threw the sword directly towards the throne, warping after it in a flash of bright blue light. 

It was as he was flying through the air, unable to change course, that the seam of light over the throne split open, his sword plunging into the depths. Noctis didn't even have time to scream as he was swallowed up whole.

\----

**_What is your substance? Whereof are you made, that millions of strange shadows on you tend?_ **

Noctis crashed face-first into a hard surface, catching most of the impact on one of his forearms which he had instinctively raised in front of him as he fell. Skidding to an abrupt halt, he heard a ripping noise from near his left knee, as well as the sword he had thrown clattering off into the distance. For a moment he lay stunned, wondering if he was dead; his heart was beating so hard he could feel it reverberating around his chest and climbing up his throat. 

Noctis found himself in a pitch-black space, lying on a dark ground that blended into dark sky so well that there should have been no horizon. Yet criss-crossing the ground was a lovely latticework of fine white cracks, light issuing from its seams. These cracks extended far into the distance, showing him that this place was vast and cavernous, maybe even infinite. Some of the cracks behind Noctis, where he’d apparently been jettisoned from, had split open into bright white pools of light. The Sword of the Father lay some distance away, illuminated by another small hole, and Noctis recalled it to his hand. 

_Where am I?_ he thought to himself, because it sure didn't look like the inside of the crystal, and it sure didn't feel like the afterlife. Noctis reasoned that he had to have warped through one of the split-open cracks and… the world had turned sideways? So maybe he could return to the throne room by passing through it again. But why had those terrible, gasping voids appeared in the throne room to begin with? Here, in this semi-lightless place, Noctis felt… a strange sense of freedom. Not because reprieve had been given him, nor was it the peace of oblivion. But the voices had stilled, and the wind had gone quiet. In spite of the dark, Noctis could see. Could breathe. It was like nothing outside of this place existed. Not life, not death… not gods, not kings… not Lucis, and certainly not Ardyn.

Maybe he was in Limbo. 

Rolling over onto his back, Noctis felt a lurch beneath his knee and realised that he had put it through one of the cracks when he landed, opening a pool of light about the size of a hubcap. Noctis inspected it curiously, finding that, like the voids in the throne room, if he looked closely enough he could make out a blurry image in the depths of the white. Cautiously shifting his weight, he almost overbalanced and found his nose nearly touching the pool. From this he discovered two things: one, that the light, like the void, was whispering; and two, that the closer he got to it, the more he could see through it. 

This pool was whispering, “ _Does Prompto die before the sun rises?_ ” in a sad, childish voice. Instantly, all of Noctis’s stress came back in a rush, his stomach clenching and nausea rising. Through the hole, Noctis could see Prompto in the street in front of the palace, battling a Yojimbo and a pack of goblins all at once. He was quite clearly outgunned. Prompto's back was to Noctis, but he was standing slightly off to the right, just out of his reach. “ _Does Prompto die before the sun rises?_ ”

Noctis shuddered, even as he saw Prompto dodge under Yojimbo’s wicked katana and aim a shot at its head. Before Prompto could shoot, a goblin behind him grabbed his arm and pulled him off-balance, sending him tumbling to the ground. As Yojimbo prepared to strike again, the goblin horde started swarming towards him. 

“Prompto!” Noctis cried, his chest seizing up. Thrusting his arm towards the hole, he felt a shock run through him as cool night air hit his reaching fingers. 

“Noct!” Prompto screamed, scrabbling desperately towards him, three goblins clinging to his back and neck. Yojimbo just missed Prompto’s heart with a swing of his sword, instead cleaving a goblin in half as Prompto rolled towards Noctis’s reaching hand. As soon as he was within grabbing distance, Noctis latched onto his collar and _pulled_. 

With the sound of ripping fabric, Prompto burst into the dark place with Noctis, body bending and contorting as the gravity shifted under him. The goblins clinging to him gave high-pitched wails as they burst like balloons full of sand, unable to pass through. Prompto was screaming, Noctis, too, with effort. Finally, both of them collapsed onto the ground beside each other, Noctis’s chest heaving, desperate breaths scraping his throat raw. The pool of light had grown to the size of a tyre, leaking cracks all around them now.

“--dead, am I dead, I know we’re dead, Noct, you’re supposed to be, anyway. Oh Six, where are we,” Prompto was panting. 

“We gotta move,” Noctis said to him, afraid more cracks would break open and they’d be sent tumbling back into the world where Yojimbo was waiting. As Prompto still hadn't gotten his bearings, Noctis dragged him to safer ground by the back of the jacket, then knelt down beside him. Prompto's familiar yet worn features were bathed in a soft white glow that shone through his hair the way light shines through silk, yet the shadows in the hollows of his pale skin were darker than Noctis had ever seen them. He looked unreal. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, save for relief that he hadn't yet become demon food. Noctis, too, felt steeped in some kind of unfamiliar emotion. Here he was, reunited with Prompto, but both of them should be dead and Lucis was not yet saved. Guilt and fear twinged in his stomach, even as tears, strangely, came unbidden to his eyes. 

Noctis wasn't a ghost, but that didn't mean that he was alive. Or that he had been alive for the past ten years.

“Noct?” Prompto said softly, gaze flitting over Noctis's face. He pulled himself into a sitting position. “ _Are_ we dead?”

“You're not,” Noctis reassured him, finding he somehow couldn't look away from Prompto's dirt-streaked, tired face. “I… don't know where we are. I just got here. Where are Ignis and Gladio? Are they still alive?”

“I don't know,” Prompto replied, brow furrowing. “After you left, it was kinda every guy for himself. We tried fighting together, but there were just too many of them.”

“We need Ignis,” Noctis said, rocking back on his heels. “And Gladio, too.” The both of them were silent for a moment, Prompto clenching and unclenching his empty fists, maybe remembering the weight of the guns that had fit so neatly in them just minutes before. 

“We just have to look in all of these rifts and see if we can find them,” Noctis said, gesturing at the one that Prompto had come out of. 

“Love the lighting,” Prompto quipped, and Noctis laughed, unexpectedly. As Prompto leaned forward to inspect it, Noctis turned his attention to another pool off to the right. He hadn’t gone four paces when he heard Prompto give a strangled gasp.

“Holy shit,” Prompto choked out. “It’s talking about me.”

“Yeah, I heard it too. It’s asking if you die before the sun comes up,” Noctis said bitterly, thinking maybe he should have warned Prompto before letting him discover that on his own.

“No, it's not, dude,” Prompto said, still sounding shocked. “It's so creepy, though. It's just saying “ _What happens to Prompto?_ ” over and over again. What happens to me? I'm right here!”

The question had changed? Was it Noctis's actions which were responsible for that? Noctis was still slightly afraid that the whole place could come apart, spitting him and Prompto out into hell… or worse, somehow erasing them from reality and obliterating them entirely. 

“If it's just talking, let it,” Noctis said with more confidence than he felt.

“Uhh,” Prompto said, not sounding very reassured. “Who is asking us these questions? How are they coming out of the ground like this? Do you think we’ve… I don’t know, fallen out of the universe, or something? It feels like we’re… outside of reality. Is this what it was like when you were in the crystal?”

“Not at all,” Noctis said, leaning down to listen to the light in front of him. This one was one of the ones that had appeared in the throne room, and it was quietly whispering, “ _Why won’t the sun rise?_ ” 

Sad, spooky, and a good question too, but not very useful for finding their friends. Noctis was about to move on, when he heard a strangled yelp and a tearing sound. He looked over to see that Prompto had accidentally put his arm through the ground.

“Found Gladio,” Prompto said weakly. “One of the cracks from the hole I came through was saying “ _Does Gladio die before the sun rises?_ ” and then I just put my hand in it. Sorry?”

“It’s all good,” Noctis said, striding over to examine the small white hole Prompto had made. “Let’s go get him. I’ll go out, and you stay here to pull us back in. Got it?”

In a past life, Prompto would have told him it wasn't safe, but now he only nodded and stood solemnly by. Looking through the hole, Noctis could see Gladio fighting two iron giants and five massive flans, with Ignis at his side (thank goodness). How to get in, with the hole so small? Noctis examined it for a moment, finding the hole to be slightly teardrop-shaped yet ragged around the edges, like a hole in the knee of a pair of jeans. Maybe he could widen it along the crack that it lay on. Tentatively, he slipped both hands into the hole, feeling his hands tingle - not unpleasantly - as they were engulfed by the bright white light. He pushed forward along the crack leading from the pointed end of the teardrop, finding that the velvety black fabric of the ground they were standing on split open easily, like tape under a knife. 

When the hole was big enough for Noctis to get his body through, he stopped. Gladio’s back was to him and Ignis was now some distance away. 

“I’m going in,” Noctis said, glancing over his shoulder in time to see Prompto nod. 

“I got your back,” Prompto said confidently. Preparing his sword, Noctis warped through the hole and straight towards a red giant’s head. Cool night air hit his face and flowed around him in a rush. Even as his stomach lurched with the sudden shift of gravity from down to sideways, his aim was true and the giant fell to its knees as Noctis landed on the pavement beside Gladio. Before the giant could retaliate, the fourteen weapons in the armiger were dancing around him in a glittering, deadly shield. 

“Gladio! Ignis!” Noctis called, pitching his voice to carry across the sounds of battle as if he were about to ask them for instructions. Gladio didn’t look up, dodging under the second giant’s arm and striking it in the back. But Ignis froze, almost allowing a flan to take his arm off before Noctis blocked it with the Shield of the Just and bashed the flan on the head. 

“Your Highness?” Ignis said, shocked and raising his daggers again, though there was no need. Noctis kept the Shield of the Just floating in front of him, feeling the pressure mounting as an arachne and two reapers joined the fray. 

_We don’t have time for this_ , Noctis thought angrily. “Gladio! Ignis!” he called again. “Regroup! To my side!”

“Gladio!” Ignis said, obediently coming to stand within the safety of the armiger’s whirling steel, the Shield of the Just also returning to the fold. Noctis, parrying a flan, a reaper, and the arachne all at once, heard rather than saw Gladio fell the red giant and fight his way over to them. 

“Prompto?” Noctis said, backing up slowly until he felt Prompto’s hand on his back. 

“I’m here, Noct,” Prompto said, just as Gladio arrived. Ignis was looking behind Noctis, obviously able to see the black hole ringed with light and Prompto’s arm sticking out of it. This close, Noctis could feel it breathing, just like the ones in the throne room. Were these appearing all over Lucis? 

_What if these holes were part of the Starscourge?_

Shocked, Noctis faltered, just as the reaper fell to the Star of the Rogue. The arachne reared up on its hind legs and almost broke through the circle of whirling blades just as Gladio smashed a sword into its face and killed it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Gladio roared, snapping Noctis back to reality. 

“Prompto, get Ignis!” Noctis ordered. Gladio looked like he was about to explode but Noctis grabbed him by the wrist, simultaneously slamming Ignis backwards towards the hole to help Prompto get him in. When he felt Ignis disappear from behind him, he reached back into the hole waited for just one heart-stopping beat before Prompto’s hands closed around his wrist, and he and Gladio were yanked back to the relative safety of the dark place. 

\----

_**This senseless fog where shadows swirl - is this to be where my future is found?** _

“Where the fuck are we?” Gladio snapped. Though he was still scowling, he didn’t seem so angry at Noctis anymore, probably because the dark place was its own explanation for why Noctis wasn’t dead on his dad’s throne yet. 

“I don't know,” Noctis said again, voice rough with anguish. 

“What is it?” Ignis said, picking up on Noctis's emotions. But Noctis just shook his head. If this was the Starscourge, he had already failed. Better to operate under the assumption that it was something else, then, something that was fixable.

“I can't call the kings,” Noctis said, pulling himself back from the rising edge of panic. Quickly, he described the dark place to Ignis so he could get his bearings. Then gave his three friends a run-down of what had happened in the throne room, and explained how the pools of light seemed to show visions and speak. 

“So the one you pulled us through is now saying what, exactly?” Ignis asked, sounding calm though his forehead was creased with concern.

“' _What happened to Gladiolus?_ ' and ' _What happened to Ignis?_ '” Prompto reported. “They're kinda overlapped, it's weird. I think because you widened the hole by yourself, Noct. It musta merged with the one next to it.”

“So there's no way out of this?” Gladio said, expression accusing. But his tone was simply tired. Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto had all come here prepared to die just as he had, Noctis knew. Any anger Gladio felt would doubtless be on behalf of the people of Eos, not for himself. But if they were all to die here together, there was no point in taking it out on Noctis. He already knew.

Noctis found himself sweating and blinking back the blackness in front of his eyes. _What am I even fighting for?_ he thought, throat constricting. _Why am I doing this?_ Taking a deep breath, Noctis felt like he’d suddenly been infused with oxygen, like everything was brighter and sharper than it had been two breaths ago - like suddenly he was seeing everything around them for the very first time. And in spite having the power of the gods, a pre-ordained destiny, and the powerful spirits of 113 kings in a ring on his finger, it seemed like none of those things mattered - like Prompto, Ignis, and Gladio were the only concrete things in this reality here with him. 

_Maybe this place is getting to me_ , Noctis thought.

“There has to be a way!” Prompto exclaimed, looking at Noctis expectantly from where he was kneeling beside the pool of light Ignis and Gladio had come out of.

“I, for one, am certain that there is,” Ignis said confidently, and if he was just faking to hold the team together, well, Noctis couldn't tell. “Let us examine a few more of these… holes, and see what they can tell us.”

“What Iggy said,” Noctis said as Gladio and Prompto turned to him expectantly. All four of them got down on their hands and knees, each listening intently to a different pool of light. Noctis saw Gladio dip one finger into the light, then pull it right back out, frowning in consternation. 

The closest pool to Noctis was the one that had been saying “ _Why won't the sun rise?_ ” Remembering how Prompto had heard different voices from the cracks leading away from the hole earlier, he checked the thin lines radiating from this hole, too. Noctis had to really strain to catch those tiny, pleading voices. Of all the things about this dark place, they were the most unsettling. Being able to understand then was like overheating something forbidden. Here was one saying, “ _Why didn't the sun rise when Ifrit was defeated?_ ” and another saying, “ _Won’t the sun rise when Ardyn is defeated?_ ” 

“Well, they're all asking questions,” Gladio said impatiently, giving Noctis an irritated look. 

“And all the ones next to each other are kinda related,” Prompto added.

“Yes, indeed,” Ignis said, nodding. “Anything else to add, Noct?”

“Just that they're all about us, or about the prophecy,” Noctis said, shrugging. “But what do you guys have to do with the prophecy?” He turned to look expectantly at Ignis, and saw that Gladio and Prompto were doing the same. Noctis wondered if Ignis could feel the weight of those stares.

“Well,” Ignis began slowly. “I have to wonder what would happen if we simply… answered the questions.”

“Answered the questions?” Noctis echoed, looking down at the web of cracks that stretched away from them in all directions. True, it was more vast behind them than in any other side, but even just what lay in front of them would be a monumental task to address. 

“Even if it isn't feasible to answer every single one of them, perhaps at least reducing their number might enable the king to reach the throne, and that is our ultimate goal, is it not?” said Ignis, sensible as always. Noctis breathed out a sigh of relief. Finally, things didn't seem as nightmarish anymore.

“Well, let's start with this one,” Noctis said, pointing at the one he was sitting next to. “It goes back to the throne room.” 

Prompto helped Ignis up, and the three of them came to stand by Noctis's side, examining the pool of light on front of him.

“It's asking why the sun won't rise,” Noctis said. “And if that has something to do with Ifrit, or something to do with Ardyn.”

“Well I would have thought it had something to do with the Starscourge,” Gladio commented, “Cuz of all that stuff you found in Zegnautus Keep, Noct.”

“But didn't Bahamut say that the light was leaving the world because it was leaving the crystal?” Prompto asked.

“He kinda said that, but it was pretty hard to understand him,” Noctis replied, flicking some hair out of his face and tiredly rubbing his forehead. Maybe this would be harder than he had thought. 

“And I feel I must point out,” Ignis said, “That although the research we found indicated photophilic airborn protozoa are responsible for the lack of sunlight, it seems all the vegetation we’ve encountered has continued growing normally, as if there were no physical impediment to light in the atmosphere at all.”

Gladio tensed, and Noctis and Prompto exchanged uneasy glances.

“Godsdamnit,” Gladio growled. “What if these questions are all completely unanswerable?”

“That can't be,” Ignis began. “Surely there must be at least one-”

Prompto gasped, cutting Ignis off.

“Holy shit,” Prompto said, note of excitement rising in his voice. “You guys. I know what's going on.”

“You do?” Ignis said skeptically.

“Yeah,” Prompto said, nodding furiously. “You guys, these are plot holes.”

“Plot holes,” Ignis said flatly, at the same time as Gladio said, “We are so screwed.” Meanwhile, Noctis just waited for Prompto to explain.

“Yeah, listen,” Prompto said confidently. “What else could tear the fabric of reality apart? You think it’s an accident that none of us knows why the sun won't rise, even Noct, who has spoken to a god? Hell, he practically is a god now, and he still doesn't know? Don't you think that's a little suspicious?”

“That’s bullshit,” Gladio snapped. “This isn’t a TV show. People are dying out there, and you should damn well know that.”

“Wait a minute, Gladio,” Ignis said thoughtfully. “While Noctis was asleep in the crystal, I did a fair amount of research on the prophecy. I spent four years visiting every king’s tomb, all the ancient temples of the gods, the Disc of Cauthess, the meteor shards in Lestallum, and many other sites it would be too tiresome to recount. During the course of my research, I discovered that what we actually know about the prophecy is… shockingly lacking. In fact, I was not able to find a single copy of the original text. I cannot tell you what it actually says, save for a mediocre paraphrase from the pages of the Cosmogony. At the time this lack of information was extremely discouraging to me, but now I fear the truth is more sinister than at first I had realised.”

As Ignis spoke, Noctis felt a strange rush of relief. The sensation that he’d felt all his life - that nothing happening to him was justified, none of it was good, none of it made any sense - it hadn’t been for nothing. Why he had had to get pulled into the Crystal, why his friends and his people had had to suffer 10 years of darkness without him, and the most important question of all - why he had to die - all of those questions and been more had just been answered. Maybe Noctis should have been angry, that the answer was “no reason at all”. But mostly, he was just glad to know that none of these things were due to his personal bad choices. That no other route would have led to a different outcome, and it wasn’t his fault. 

It wasn’t his fault. 

“You really believe this, Iggy?” Gladio said. Noctis looked over at him, concerned that he might be about to blow. But although Gladio's brow was furrowed, it seemed to be more in concern than in anger. 

“Well… it’s a tempting suggestion,” Ignis said, causing Gladio to take a step back in surprise.

“You can't be serious!” he exclaimed. Ignis looked down at his hands, pursing his lips. 

“What if this is the trial?” Prompto said suddenly, before Ignis could justify his opinion. Gladio turned to look at him expectantly. “What if fixing these plot holes is our trial from the gods? We’re not just gonna die here, so, I mean, there's still a chance this is what Bahamut sent Noctis to fix, right?” His voice was not anxious, but joyful. Looking at him, glowing in the brilliant white light, Noctis’s heart leapt, the happiest he’d felt since he’d been 20 years old. 

Gladio nodded, recapturing Noctis’s attention. “I guess I can buy that. It’ll do for now,” he said. 

“So how do we do this thing?” Prompto asked.

 _Ding_! Noctis’s phone chimed, echoing around them and startling all four of them. Right on cue, a small, blue furry body materialised directly from the darkness around them and landed on the ground beside Noctis - Carbuncle.

Noctis looked down at the message on his phone and found that it read, “hello! im your friendly neighbourhood deus ex machina.”

“Carbuncle?” Noctis asked, and Prompto started. 

“This is Carbuncle?” he said, as Carbuncle ran up to him and sat down on his feet, looking up at Noctis with his usual furry grin. Another message appeared on Noctis’s phone. 

“He’s smaller than I imagined,” Gladio commented. Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto had all seen Carbuncle in photos before, but never in real life. “About the size of a pomeranian, Iggy,” Gladio added for the benefit of their blind friend.

“good job Prompto!! i didnt think you would be the one to figure it out but i was rooting for all of you!” Noctis read aloud as Prompto looked doubtfully down at Carbuncle. Gladio laughed.

“Hey…” Prompto whined, “That's not very nice.” 

Noctis’s phone chimed again, this time with a frown emoji. “Carbuncle says sorry,” Noctis interpreted. Another message came through: “dont worry, boys, i was serious. i am the literal GOD of deus ex machina. and ive got a present for you!”

As Noctis read the message aloud to Prompto, Carbuncle coughed. 

“Is Carbuncle alright?” Ignis said

“I didn’t touch him, I swear!” Prompto said, starting as if to step away and give the little blue fox some space. But as Carbuncle was still sitting on his feet and he couldn’t move without dislodging him, the best he could do was fidget his knees and hips anxiously as Noctis got down on his hands and knees to see that in front of Carbuncle had appeared a small blue bundle. Carbuncle started again, this time producing a spool of thread so black, Noctis was afraid it would get lost underfoot. 

Carbuncle shivered all over, fluffing out his tail, then gave Noctis a look that said “Well? How do you like them onions, buddy?” Noctis was just picking up the thread and packet when his phone chimed again. 

“Can this get any weirder?” Prompto moaned. Pulling out his phone, Noctis ignored him and read the message: “good luck boys. the fate of the world rests on your shoulders as usual. oh and i should probably tell you. the thread wont work unless you imbue it with power, so you will have to find ways to answer these questions. if you play your cards right who knows what could happen? have fun sewing!” 

“Thank you, Carbuncle,” Noctis said, getting down on one knee to look Carbuncle in the eyes and better express his gratitude. His friends also murmured their thanks as, blinking slowly, Carbuncle cocked his head to one side, then started up and leapt into Noctis’s arms. As Prompto heaved a sigh of relief at having his feet freed, Noctis stood up and started scratching Carbuncle under the chin. Noctis had never really thought of Carbuncle as a god before, more as a friend-slash-pet, like Umbra. Now he could feel soft waves of power radiating from Carbuncle’s small body, which was simultaneously comforting and bizarre. 

“Thanks,” Noctis said again, more quietly. 

An emoji popped up on Noctis’s phone, which he was still holding clutched in one hand: a kiss-blowing emoji, Carbuncle’s typical farewell. With that, Carbuncle wiggled out of Noctis’s grasp, climbed onto his shoulders, and launched himself forward. With a ripping sound that made Noctis wince, Carbuncle opened up another hole in the floor and vanished through it with a final flick of his fluffy blue tail.

The small blue packet that Carbuncle had brought them turned out to contain four gleaming, perfectly sharp silver sewing needles. Noctis showed them to Gladio and Prompto, and described them to Ignis. 

“Well, boys. I believe we have a new main line quest,” said Ignis, and smiled.

\----

**_You are the one, Noctis._ **

Hours later - how long it had been precisely was difficult to say in this unreal place, especially as none of them were getting hungry or tired - two thirds of the plot holes had been sewn shut. They had worked their way from the beginning, the first hole saying " _Why wasn't the wedding called off after the fall of Insomnia?_ ", all the way to this area, which seemed to contain holes mostly concerned with Zegnautus Keep. As the holes were closed, the space they were in seemed to shrink, if only because without the light from the holes and cracks it was impossible to judge distance with any accuracy whatsoever.

Noctis found Prompto down on his knees, with his ear to the seam of another large crack, needle clutched in one hand.

“This is baaaaaad world-building,” Prompto said, sitting up as Noctis approached him. “You know, Noct, I’ve been thinking,” he continued. Noctis sat down beside him, resting his arm across one knee. “We can't be in a movie, cuz it would be too long. We can’t be in a book, cuz it doesn't make enough sense. Nobody would ever publish a story with this many holes in it. So we have to be in a video game.”

Noctis snorted. “You’re taking this too literally,” he said. “Although, I guess that would be cool. If we are, I bet all my stats are maxed out."

"All your stats except for beard-growing," Prompto snickered. "Thirty year old Noct looks like he should be working at a gas station. Now, me, on the other hand..."

"Oh, shut up," Noctis said, rolling his eyes and resisting the urge to touch his chin defensively. Ignis had answered the question " _Why does Noctis stay in the crystal for exactly 10 years?_ " with, "He did not spend 10 years there. He spent 1,001 nights in the crystal. That is a traditional number representing a great length of time in many storytelling traditions." Miraculously, the thread imbued with these words had successfully closed the hole, so now Noctis and Prompto were both around 23 years old and beardless again. "Anyway, what’s the question in this plot hole?” Noctis asked, trying to distract Prompto from the stupid beard argument.

“It says " _Why didn’t Ardyn just kill Prompto at Zegnautus Keep?_ "” Prompto said. “Well, that one’s easy. Why? Cuz Ardyn is a trashlord. Haha, next!”

Laughing, Noctis swatted at Prompto’s hand. “Don’t say that while you’re holding the thread, you’ll wreck it.”

They had found that some explanations actually were inadequate to make the holes close, or worse, made more open. For instance, answering " _Why do the rooms in the ruins at Steyliff Grove change?_ " with "I dunno, man, they just do," had completely failed. The thread had simply slipped through the fabric of reality, refusing to stay in place no matter how many times it was knotted - Prompto had wasted a good 5 minutes trying before Noctis had come over and reminded him those ruins were remnants of the Solheim Empire, an ancient civilisation known for its incredible magic and magical technology. It was a good thing Carbuncle's magic string seemed to be endless and the needles never became blunted.

“You mean I have to come up with a better explanation than that? I don’t know, man, I think I might be out of ideas,” Prompto groaned, flopping down on his back. “Besides, it’s true. Ardyn suuuuuucks. Can we rewrite all this and make him suck less? Pretty please?”

“No, but we can take a break if you want,” Noctis said, watching Prompto fondly.

Meanwhile, Ignis and Gladio were working on “ _How did Pryna appear to Prompto in Niflheim after she had already died?_ ”, each sewing towards each other to meet in the centre of the hole. The velvet black ground was melting into itself along the seam, leaving no visible indication that there had once been a hole there - that was the sign that the explanation they had imbued the thread with was working.

“My fingers hurt,” Gladio was complaining, rubbing his right hand with his left. “It ain’t like I’ve never sewn up a hole in a pair of jeans before, but this is a whole other level of busywork.”

“We’ll be done soon, I hope,” Ignis said, yet there was determination in his eyes as he surveyed the remaining holes. Ignis had already dictated several literal essays to the thread in order to close certain holes. For instance, " _How did Lunafreya die?_ " had been closed after what probably amounted to several pages of talking. Ignis's answer to the question boiled down to "There's no evidence that Luna is dead except for Noctis's dream and other people telling us that she is dead. Therefore, she faked her own death to escape the empire. She will provide her assistance during the final battle, as Gladio, Prompto, and I will." None of them had any idea if this explanation would truly bring Luna back from the dead, but as the hole was closed and no other cracks had open when it was done... they were all praying it would prove true.

At length, Gladio sighed. It was unusual to hear him make such a dispirited, helpless sort of noise, and Ignis's ears twitched in surprise.

"Everything alright?" he asked. Gladio waited a few moments before replying.

"Oh, it's nothing. I've just been thinking, is all," he said. Ignis tied off the end of the thread, noting as he heard a burst of laughter that Noctis and Prompto were probably goofing off, and should be encouraged to get back on track soon.

"What is it?" Ignis said, sitting back.

Gladio was quiet. Then he said, "Does anything matter, if we can just change it so easily? I didn't want to bring it up in front of the kids, cause they look so happy, but we just rewrote seven years of our lives. All that stuff we did, everything we went through in the dark, it's just gone. I dunno how to feel about that."

“Of course it mattered,” Ignis replied instantly. “If it weren't for those years, we wouldn't know what was at stake. But to be honest with you, Gladio, I can't find it within myself to regret the changes we have made. Before we came here, when I thought of the sun finally rising, I knew I would take no joy in it. Now I feel as if I did not even need the sun, for I already remember what warmth feels like." Ignis coughed bashfully. "If you catch my meaning," he added.

Gladio's tone was wry. "I get it. I guess in the grand scheme of things, losing seven years of memories is better than losing your friend's life. And I wanna see you guys smile again."

That was one of the sweetest things Ignis had ever heard Gladio say. He couldn't help it when his lips curled upwards in a gentle smile. Laughing delightedly, Gladio clapped Ignis on the back and put his hand over Ignis's to guide it to the next crack that needed stitching. This one was " _How did Noctis appear on Engelgard?_ ", which Ignis hoped would herald the beginning of the questions about the logic behind their confrontation with Ifrit, and Noct's confrontation with Ardyn. He was eager to return to the real world and experience the work of their hands in real time, knowing that he would feel every stitch as the sun warmed his pale skin.

Eons of stitching later, when everyone's wrists were aching and Prompto's thumbs were full of accidental needle-pricks, when the black velvet room seemed to have shrunk down from the size of several arenas to the size of Noctis's old apartment, Noctis himself found the million dollar plot hole. At first, he simply sat back on his heels and stared off into the distance with a pensive look on his face. Gladio, who had just finished threading a needle for Ignis and " _Will the Armiger weapons vanish after sunrise?_ ", noticed that Noctis was spacing out, and waved at him.

"Huh?" Noctis started, clutching the needle tightly as if he were afraid he was about to drop it. "Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Don't think too hard," Gladio snorted. "Is it the plot hole, or are you just trying to get out of sewing?"

Noctis groaned, rubbing his eyes with the heel of one hand. "This one's hard," he said, gesturing at the hole in front of him. It was a pretty good-sized hole, possibly the largest one so far - around a yard around in every direction, and with many small cracks leading away from it.

"Hmmm? What is it?” Prompto asked. “I’m almost done with “ _What is the nature of Shiva’s manifestation in the battle against Ifrit?_ ”, so…”

Noctis shook his head. He was silent for a moment, his throat working as he swallowed. Both Prompto and Gladio were now looking at Noctis in concern as Noctis gave a bitter little half smile. When Noctis spoke, his tone was forced.

“It’s fine, you guys. The question is “ _Why does Noctis have to die?_ ”.” 

Ignis immediately turned his head in Noctis’s direction, while Prompto’s fingers slipped on the needle. Noticing this, Noctis snorted before looking down at the plot hole and pensively running one finger along the edge of it. 

“Noct, if you like… I can attempt to do for this one what I did for the one about the death of Lady Lunafreya,” Ignis said, but Noctis shook his head again.

“No. Absolutely not,” he said firmly. 

“We could talk about it?” Ignis suggested, but Noctis said no again. 

“I said, I’ll be fine, guys,” he said, still surveying the hole. There was a fierce gleam of emotion sparkling in his eye, with the bright white light illuminating him from underneath and shining on his face. Even kneeling on the ground with a needle in his fist in place of a sword, he looked regal, almost godlike. Although he was feigning calmness, his mind was in turmoil. 

Noctis looked Prompto dead in the eyes and said, “I’ve never once in my life been able to choose a damn thing past what I’m gonna be eating for dinner. You know that.” His gaze shifted to Gladio, who looked uncomfortable. “But this means I can rewrite my entire life, and I’m damn well gonna do it. No matter how long it takes.”

“Of course,” Prompto said quickly. “You should be free to choose.”

Gladio nodded. Ignis also inclined his head, clearly remembering, as they all did, a time when those words had been used in his personal defense. 

“We should all be free to choose,” he said.

Noctis swallowed, blinking back the tears which had suddenly sprung to his eyes. “Just give me some time,” he said. Ignis reached out and gently nudged Gladio’s hand to get him sewing again. Prompto gently reached out and clasped Noctis on the shoulder, and they exchanged a sympathetic glance before Noctis turned back to the glowing pool of light in front of him. Staring directly at it, not caring that it left golden afterimages whenever he closed his eyes, Noctis lost himself in thought.

During the ten years he had spent in the crystal, he had spent nearly every minute mourning and waiting for his life yet unable to actually leave and end it. After the initial period of numb horror and grief, Noctis had begun imagining wild scenarios where by some miracle, he could live. Everything from time travel with Umbra to the simple idea that his friends could use a phoenix down on his corpse and revive him before brain death. And every option he had counted had been discounted as being impossible, unrealistic, or otherwise flawed. When there had been nothing left to imagine, he had screamed until his throat was so raw he should have been coughing up blood, but there had been nothing he could do to escape the ethereal hell he had found himself floating in. So Noctis had actually spent the better part of his time in the crystal feeling nearly catatonic, dispassionately watching as videos of his life played on loop in his mind. When he finally emerged, he had felt broken and inhuman. A ghost.

Then, when he had seen his friends - Prompto’s ever-unspoken but steadfast love, Ignis’s care and concern, and Gladio’s brotherly affection - Noctis had wanted to weep with love and misery, but it had been so very long since his tears had meant anything. It was as if he had spent the past few days walking around in a trance, carrying a massive, unseen weight that he would have given anything to be able to put down. In dying, Noctis would be able to take one last breath, and that was the only thing he had been living for.

So when he looked into the glimmering depths of white before him, the answer to the question “ _Why does Noctis have to die?_ ” was, to Noctis, “Because he has nothing left to live for.” He had spent so long in the Crystal trying to figure out how to escape his fate that now that one had been put directly in front of him he was paralysed, unable to believe he could be freed, and equally unable to imagine what life would be like if it didn’t end in the Insomnian throne room. His brain stammered, started, and then stalled. Noctis wondered if opening his mouth and screaming as loudly as possible into the pool could somehow get it to close. If only he could walk himself through a logical answer to the question, then he might be able to… what? Feel alive again? 

Noctis took a deep breath. He knew _why_ he had to answer the question, he just didn’t know if he _could_. Of course, he didn’t want to die. He wanted to live without constantly being in pain. Noctis didn’t know if that was possible for him anymore, either. 

But damn it all, he was going to try.

A little over an hour later, Noctis was still sitting beside the open hole. Prompto had come to sit back-to-back with him, while Gladio and Ignis were sitting nearby, talking quietly. There were a few other unresolved plot holes lying around, but Noctis was guessing the answers to their questions would depend on the answer he gave to the question in front of him. None of his friends had tried to talk to Noctis yet, for which he was grateful. Prompto was getting squirmy, though - Noctis could feel him shifting as he tried to peer over Noctis’s shoulder upside down from behind. 

“Hey,” Prompto said tentatively. Noctis turned, catching Prompto under the arms and pulling him towards him so that Prompto could lay his head in Noctis’s lap. 

“How’s it going, there, buddy?” Prompto said, covering a yawn with one hand. He seemed very relaxed, and Noctis smiled fondly. 

“It’s good,” he said. “Think I mighta got it.”

“Oh yeah? Wanna share?” Prompto said. Noct’s smile widened, now tinged with excitement. 

“I dunno. Maybe I should just sew it up and then let you guess what I did,” he said. 

“If that’s what you want…” Prompto said uncertainly. He was obviously trying to be supportive, but Noctis just laughed. 

“Don’t be boring. Don’t you want to know?” he asked, and Prompto swatted him on the arm. 

“So tell me!” Prompto said in exasperation. Noctis beckoned to Ignis and Gladio, who stopped pretending like they weren’t listening to the conversation and moved a little closer. 

“Thread,” Noctis said, holding out his hand to Ignis, who silently took it from his breast pocket and placed it into Noctis’s waiting palm. Unwinding a long length of string from the spool and threading it through the eye of the needle, Noctis began to speak. 

“And so,” he concluded, as the thread fairly hummed with power, “I didn’t die. I fell asleep.”

Prompto burst into laughter. Ignis looked at Noctis, saw that he didn’t look offended, and started chuckling, and that was it for both Gladio and Noctis. The four of them laughed, Prompto fairly rolling on the ground. 

“I’m sorry, dude,” Prompto gasped, “That is just, that’s the most _you_ answer. You fuckin’ fell asleep.”

Noctis wasn’t offended, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. He hadn’t laughed like this in years, literally. He was about to cut the thread with a dagger from the armiger, when Ignis reached out and stopped him. 

“Wait a minute, Noct. Before you begin to sew, perhaps you had better ensue that there is some way for us to wake you up. Just to be safe.”

“Oh, right,” Noctis said. Holding the thread to his face again, he added, “And there’s no secret to it. Just wake me up like you always do. But,” he added, in case that wasn’t fairytale enough for this magical thread, “Only Prompto, Gladio, or Ignis can wake me up. No one else.”

“I can’t believe we’re re-creating Sleeping Beauty,” Gladio complained, and this time nobody stopped Noctis when he cut the thread with the dagger and set about sewing up the hole. 

After Noctis had finished with that plot hole, sewing up the rest of them was a fairly quick affair. Ignis had been worried that if all the holes were sewn shut, there would be no way for them to return to the real world. But one single, perfectly round hole around the size of a truck tyre remained when all was said and done. This one had no cracks or tears surrounding it. Given the shape, it seemed more like it had been cut out of the fabric of the universe specifically for them, like the hole an ice fisher casts their line through. This one said, “ _What happened to Noctis, Gladio, Ignis, and Prompto?_ ” and Ignis surmised that it existed because their entry to this place had had repercussions in the real world. When he peered through the hole to the other side, Noctis saw that it led to the entry to Insomnia. There, Luna was waiting in the darkened world, looking around herself with increasing anxiety. 

_Luna_. Luna, in flesh and blood, three dimensional, _alive_. No longer a ghost.

Later, she would fight Ifrit with them. She would help them purify Ardyn of the Scourge, effectively rendering the need for the permanent sacrifice of Noctis’s life unnecessary. And Noctis would enter the throne room, with steps measured, weighted, and weighed. Dim shafts of light would pierce the broken walls and leave grey pools on the broken rubble. No gleaming white light, thin and sharp as a razor wire, nor black pools of horror, nor whispering sibilant voices would interrupt his steps. And Noctis would look up at the dark and empty throne, and laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> No, Prompto. These plot holes were not sent by the gods to test you personally. THEY WERE SENT TO TEST THE LONG-SUFFERING AUTHOR AND GAMER. This game tested my patience like no other game has.  
> ○ [List of all the plot holes in the ending alone](http://voxiferous.tumblr.com/post/157757538707/tfw-you-die-at-the-end).  
> ○ [All my meta trying to fill the holes](http://voxiferous.tumblr.com/post/158834664382/ffxv-meta-masterpost).  
> ○ [Canon proof that Noctis isn't dead, he is merely dreaming](http://voxiferous.tumblr.com/post/159988023502/noctis-is-not-dead-but-merely-dreaming). I'm feelin' good cuz I can so I do.
> 
> [FIC MOODBOARD](http://voxiferous.tumblr.com/post/164269444159/amid-a-lightless-place-something-flickered-in-the)  
> [Everybody Lives](https://8tracks.com/rogueofheart/everybody-lives) (Playlist for fix-it AUs)
> 
>  **COMMENTS ALWAYS WELCOME!!!** This fic is unbeta'd. Feel free to point out dumb mistakes. It took me months to finish this fic, but I did my best. Formatting all these plot holes as questions instead of explanations made me feel like I was playing Jeopardy.
> 
> Bolded lines:  
> ○ CantabileGato's [Space Bro](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GAHtTSgnpNg) song, which is a Homestuck SolKat fansong based on a fanfic from the same name. >B^)  
> ○ Emily Autumn's [Prologue: Across The Sky](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXdmRgulv54).  
> ○ Raymond Queneau, also quoted in Georges Perec's _W ou le souvenir d'enfance_. Original: "Cette brume insensé où s'agitent des ombres, est-ce donc là mon avenir ?"  
>  ○ Quote from Luna's death cutscene. I always thought that speech was bullshit, because she says "All that has been lost will be restored" or some shit, and "The stars shine for you now," which are really lovely sentences but which have no follow-up in the actual plot whatsoever. Did the stars shine for Noctis when he fucking died and Bahamut was like "lololol, the king must sacrifice himself for all"[?](http://voxiferous.tumblr.com/post/158259061507/ffxv-phrase-analysis-the-king-must-sacrifice) (Fuck Bahamut, by the way. The only good Astral is Carbuncle.)
> 
> Lastly, I'd like to share with you the inspiration for this fic. It was from my friend Ilona, who read my meta post listing all the plot holes and commented, "The confusing thing is how many different ways the plot had holes in it. It's like 3 dimensions of plot holes all overlapping. The space time fabric of this plot has been destroyed. There is only 1 option: big bang the thing and start all over. Or get a god-like needle and start sewing and praying."


End file.
